


Nightswimming

by Zatnikatel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-10
Updated: 2011-09-10
Packaged: 2017-10-23 14:34:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/251402
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zatnikatel/pseuds/Zatnikatel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Fallen!Cas; could take place any time after 6.22; written for Tiptoe39's First Kiss in the Rain meme.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Nightswimming

**Author's Note:**

> Fallen!Cas; could take place any time after 6.22; written for Tiptoe39's First Kiss in the Rain meme.

He hears the voice the fifth time he surfaces, spluttering, sucking desperate gulps of air into shriveled lungs, his sinuses exploding from the water he inhaled as he dove frantically into the dark, and his eyes stinging from trying to see through the murk.

“What are you doing in there, Dean?”

He thinks he might cry out as he swivels, sees Castiel standing up there on the shore, his head canted and his brows tenting quizzically.

Castiel waves a hand towards the dark, sleek bulk of the caddy, beached half in and half out of the lake. “I see you managed.”

The water is freezing, and Dean can hear his teeth start to click out a percussion as he swims in place. “You’re alright,” he stutters. “Fuck. You’re alright.”

Castiel frowns. “Of course I’m alright,” he offers matter-of-factly. “I know my limitations as a human. I hid behind a tree.” He nods sagely. “Perhaps you should have.” 

Fast silver arrows of rain start plopping into the water around Dean. “Perhaps I should have…?” he echoes. He feels all breathless, crushed and tight in his chest, and he tells himself it’s because he nearly drowned while he searched. 

Castiel hugs himself as he regards Dean, glances up as thunder sounds and lightning flashes. “Have you finished your swim?” he inquires politely. “Only I’m getting wet.”

Dean stares balefully back at him, and fuck it if he doesn’t see the trace of a smile playing around Castiel’s mouth. He dog-paddles in to find his depth, wades over to the bank and reaches up. “Some help?” he snaps.

Castiel bends, extends a winter-cold hand, and Dean grabs a hold of it and pulls with all his might, hopping out of the way as nimbly as he can, weighed down as he is by clothing. Castiel bellyflops in beside him, sinks briefly, and then surges clumsily up from under the water, arms windmilling. Dean slaps his palm down on top of his head, dunks him under again for good measure. “Have you finished your swim?” he grudges out as his friend surfaces again.

Castiel is breathing fast, his hair plastered thickly to his brow, and the moonlight catches his eyes, huge in his too-pale face. He blinks as water splashes down harder from above. 

“Raindrops keep falling on your head,” Dean says stupidly, and he doesn’t even think, he shuffles right up there, clamps his hand around the back of Castiel’s skull, angles him just so and leans in.

There’s a second when he stops, when all he can see is Nebraska-sky blue gazing back at him, and he wonders if he might be giving Castiel a choice. And his friend’s eyelashes flutter, black crescents folding down, and then Castiel’s hand is on Dean’s face, his thumb sliding gentle through the moisture slicking Dean’s cheekbone. He closes the millimeter of distance and Dean sinks into the kiss, a deliberate, hypnotic brush of lips on his, back and forth, up, down and around, soft and light and warm, and so damn slow as Castiel molds their mouths together, sucking Dean’s lower lip in and grazing it just barely with his teeth. It isn’t even really erotic, Dean thinks in some part of his brain, even if it’s lighting a fuse and sparking across his synapses like wildfire. It’s reverent, tender, like it means something.

And then it’s gone and there’s only the cold outside and the heat inside, and Castiel looking at him the way he always does, like he’s absorbing Dean, only now Dean can see the shy yearning there. 

Castiel tilts his head, and his voice is hesitant, almost a whisper. “What now, Dean?”

***

 _ Hope you enjoyed… ;-) _


End file.
